


Friends at the Table Sapphic Week 2020

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/F, FatT Sapphic Week, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26317732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: A week of Clem/Gucci fics for Sapphic Week 2020.
Relationships: Gucci Garantine/Clementine Kesh
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Sept 6th: Moon / Stars (C/w au)

_ Moon _

The lights in the Joypark arena flashed as Gucci stepped out onto the stage, the beat of the music almost eclipsed by the roar of the crowd. Clem scowled, crossing her arms and then quickly uncrossing them, so as not to crease the fabric of her billowing sleeves. Even from the slightly awkward angle of backstage, she could see Gucci's perfect silhouette against the red moon backdrop. Being so close meant also that she could also catch a glimpse of Gucci's bright grin just before the lights went up, the sight of it making Clem's breath catch in her throat.

It looked so real, much realer than the smile Gucci wore while singing and certainly more real than anything Clem herself had been able to produce, either on or off the stage. Her mother was always needling her about it.

"I'm just trying to ensure we have the best product possible," said Crysanth, "After all, you wouldn't want to disappoint your fans, would you?"

Clem didn't particularly care about her fans, but she knew better than to voice such a thought out loud. Even just thinking it felt dangerous, with her mother in the room. Such was the cost of having your mother be your manager.

_ Gucci  _ cared about her fans, of course. She seemed to inspire loyalty as easily as breathing, her first album hitting record sales without her even really being promoted by OriCon at all, not that Clem had been tracking them, obviously. Her own sales had been of the same level, of course, but she'd had a wide marketing campaign to thank for that, along with being the daughter of Crysanth Kesh, famous songstress-turned-executive.

She watched as Gucci went through her routine, her moon-red costume glittering under the lights, each set of dance steps bringing her closer to a different section of the audience, accompanied by screams of delight by those in both physical and virtual attendance. Clem pressed her lips together. Her own performances did not include any such elaborate dance steps. Her choreographer had insisted on paring her's down to the very basics after they had had a disagreement on how much practise was required.

Crysanth had been furious. Quietly, of course, the way Crysanth's fury was always quiet. Clem strongly suspected that her performance with Gucci was a kind of punishment, to force her to sing a duet at a concert where Gucci's name was in the highest prominence on every possible surface, a reminder of her own failings.

Still. It wasn't as though she could go off-label. All her resources were tangled up in Crysanth and OriCon, and she'd never gotten on particularly well with other acts. It made it strange that Gucci had agreed at all, since Clem had it on good authority that Gucci's contract had more wiggle room than her own.

Her eyes followed Gucci as she circled back to the centre of the stage for the song's finale, only barely paying attention to the music, until she was called away for her final make-up and costume check. Despite her best efforts her thoughts remained on stage, with Gucci.

  
  


_ Stars _

Gucci wasn't particularly looking forward to the last song before her concert intermission. It wasn't a  _ bad  _ way to close out the first half per say, the song was decent and it was a good emotional mid-point - a slower, sing-along ballad before people went to line up at the bathrooms and concession stands.

The problem was that she had to sing it with Clementine Kesh.

Clem wasn't a  _ bad  _ singer, she'd had far too much training in her life for that, but Gucci had never found her to be a particularly inspiring one. Almost all of her songs had a synthetic, produced-by-committee feeling to them, which always left a bad taste in Gucci's mouth. She had some songs like that herself, of course, the price of working for OriCon, but even they let her write some herself, some of the time. Clem was just so clearly a product of the OriCon machine and even though Gucci was inside it now, she didn't particularly like it.

Still, she was a professional, the show must go on etcetera etcetera, and when it came time for their duet, she injected as much joy into her voice as she could. Clem shot Gucci a glare, her expression transforming to a pageant-queen smile as she stepped out on stage, her white sequin jumpsuit glittering under the lights.

There was enough demographic crossover in the audience that the responding cheer was of a respectful level. Clem produced her own microphone, glittering white to match her outfit, readying herself next to Gucci.

Gucci saw her hand that wasn't holding the microphone tremble slightly before Clem flexed her fingers, hooking them into the tight pocket of her jumpsuit. Gucci looked at her, a little wonderingly. She'd never been a fan of Clem's but she'd known about her of course, Clem had been in the charts in some capacity since she was a teenager, and even before that she'd been around in video clips of pageants and talent shows. She would never have thought that Clem got nervous about performing. It made her seem more real, as if Gucci had gone from looking at an airbrushed photograph to an actual person.

Clem caught her eye, a slight flush blooming across her cheeks. Gucci grinned, opening her mouth to speak.

"How are you all tonight?" said Clem, before Gucci could get any words out..

The crowd screamed back, a thousand voices forming a wave of sound.

Gucci huffed a laugh. "It seems as though they're having a good time. You guys ready?"

Another scream. Clem's shoulder relaxed slightly, and she took her hand out of her pocket.

Clem smiled, raising an eyebrow at Gucci. "Are  _ you  _ ready?"

Gucci shifted the guitar on her shoulder. "Born ready. Sing along out there if you know this one!"

Everyone did, of course. Gucci could probably have sung it in her sleep, which was probably a good thing since Clem hadn't been at any of their rehearsals. Gucci was surprised their timing with each other worked so well, Clem reaching for the high notes and doing a good enough job of mimicking Gucci's choreography as they sung from opposite sides of the stage before coming back together.

Performing always felt good, like a magic trick even with all of OriCon clouding some of the joy of it, but singing with Clem felt like something more. She kept having to remind herself of the stage, turning her body away from Clem and prompting Clem to do the same, as though they had both forgotten the audience was there at all.

As they reached each other, Clem stepped closer than she had before, putting her hand on Gucci's shoulder. Gucci glanced at her, noting the flush in Clem's cheeks again before she grinned and leant into the touch. Whatever. Within the scope of the ballad, the physicality would play well to the crowd, even if they hadn't planned for it.

The crowd roared as they finished, and Gucci leant her head against Clem's shoulder for a moment before she straightened, sending the crowd out for their brief intermission.

She slipped her arm around Clem's before either of them could think better of it, guiding her off the stage. Clem didn't pull away, handing her microphone off to the first person who asked for it, a slightly dazed expression on her face. Gucci understood the feeling.

Clem flinched, her gaze on someone approaching them. Crysanth. Gucci pressed her lips together and then pulled them both away, heading for her dressing room and being careful not to look as if she was hurrying.

"Gucci-" said Clem.

"If you'd rather stay and talk to her be my guest," said Gucci.

"God," said Clem under her breath, and followed Gucci into her dressing room, her arm still tucked around Gucci's.

Gucci nodded to Tone, the security guard who pulled the door closed behind them. They weren't unstoppable, but they would at least be able to hold off Crysanth for a few minutes, and that was all the time they really had anyway before she had to be back out for wardrobe.

She sat them both down on the chase lounge in her dressing room, their arm still intertwined but relaxed around one another.

"I-" Clem pressed her lips together. "What is this about?"

"It's not about anything," said Gucci, "I just didn't feel like handing you off to you mother just yet after that."

"It was just a song," said Clem.

"Was it?"

Clem's cheeks flushed again. Now that they weren't under the stage lights, Gucci could see where her freckles were peeking out from under her makeup.

"It... was a good one, I suppose," said Clem.

"I don't think you've ever sounded better," said Gucci. She paused. "You should do the encore with me."

"You- What?"

Gucci turned her body more towards Clem, putting a hand on Clem's arm. "I'm supposed to do a cover song anyway, some Aria Joie song. You should sing it with me."

Clem wet her lips. "I... Which song?"

"Love's First Explosion," said Gucci.

"I... do know that one. Obviously."

"Obviously," agreed Gucci. "So?"

Clem made a face. "Don't you need to get this approved?"

"I figure we'll just do it, and the crowd will love it, and that will kind of be all the approval I need," said Gucci.

"My- Crysanth is probably out there right now getting them to pack away my microphone," said Clem.

"So you can share mine," said Gucci.

"But-" spluttered Clem, "Your contract-"

"They're not going to fire me over one song," said Gucci, "and they're not going to fire you either."

Clem looked down at her lap. "They don't have to. They could just stop promoting me."

"If they do I'll promote you myself."

Clem's head shot up. "You would?"

"Sure," said Gucci, "Clem, listen, they- the crowd totally loved it, when we were singing together and I... it was fun."

Clem's smile was smaller than the one she had given Gucci on stage, but it had a warmth to it that Gucci had never seen from her before. "It  _ was  _ fun."

"So? What do you say?"

Clem's smile grew a little wider, a little warmer, glittering like the stars embroidered on the lapels of her jumpsuit. "I say yes."

Gucci smiled back, pulling Clem to her for a moment in an odd, one-armed hug. Clem's cheeks were flushed again when she leant back.

"Come on," said Gucci, "we're going to be needed in wardrobe. They'll want you in a different outfit for the encore."

"Of course," said Clem, "I do have other outfits with me."

Gucci shot her a look. "Of course you do."

When Clem returned to the stage that night, she walked out arm in arm with Gucci Garantine to the roar of a crowd unlike either of them had ever heard.


	2. Sept 7th: Fall / Rise (Marielda au)

_ Fall _

Clem stuck to the shadows as she made her way through the streets of Marielda. You never knew whose eyes were on you, and how deep in the pocket of Crysanth they were. Being made of marble both helped and it didn’t - she was made of the same stone as the city, but it did more to make her stand out than blend in. There were no other pala-dins like her. She was a Crysanth original, for good or for ill, unchangeable and unchanged no matter how many years passed.

She had heard, however, there was a way she might be able to alter that, if only in the short term. All she had to do was find the right tea witch.

She passed the shop three times before she spotted it, it’s small brass sign worn from the elements. _Transgress Oblige_ _Tearooms. Readings by Appointment Only_. Clem did not have an appointment, but she also wasn’t looking for a reading.

The little bell about the door tinkled as she entered the dimly-lit shopfront. A thick rug muffled her footsteps, well-worn in some places but otherwise spotless, the air smelling faintly of bergamot. The shelves that lined the walls of the small shop were filled with various jars and canisters or all sizes. Clem stepped close, examining a glass jar that seemed to contain small flowers that gave off a faint blue light.

“They help with eyesight,” said a voice behind her, “among other things.”

Clem turned. A woman in a long red lace gown was standing behind the counter, the smirk on the woman’s face slipping slightly as Clem took off her sunhat.

“I have a permit for such things,” added the woman warily, “if you need to see it.”

“I do not,” said Clem, “That’s not- I’m not here to check... whatever this is."

"I see." The woman paused. "Perhaps you could tell me why you  _ are  _ here?"

"I need-" Clem glanced around, listening for a moment. The street outside was quiet but there were many ways to listen in Marielda. "I heard that you could offer... sensations, to those who could not… for people whose sensations were limited."

"I have heard of such things," said the woman slowly.

"Well, good," said Clem. When it became obvious the woman wasn't going to continue she huffed a breath. "Well? Do you have any?"

The woman regarded her for a moment, her gaze cool. "If I did, how would I know that you wouldn't use it as proof against me?"

"Proof of what?" said Clem, "I don't even know you!"

“Surely you must understand my hesitation,” said the woman, “I don’t ordinarily have a lot of pala-din customers.”

“I’m not- I work in a different area to most of them,” said Clem, catching herself before she divulged too much.

As annoying as it was to be thought to be a mindless pala-din, it was probably a worse idea to broadcast that she was living proof of Crysanth’s more revolutionary experiments. Such a thing would make her far too valuable to Crysanth’s many enemies, and other curious persons of Marielda. She would rather not be dismantled in an attempt to discover how she worked.

The woman hummed. “And what proof can you offer of that?”

Clem blinked. “What more proof do you need than that I am here?”

“What kind of proof is  _ that _ ?”

“Because I could be in trouble for being here,” said Clem, “Because I’m not supposed to-” She pressed her lips together.

The woman leaned forward, looking into Clem’s crystal eyes. “Not supposed to what?”

The words tumbled out before Clem could stop them. “To want things for myself.”

“I see.”

“If you cannot help me I will- I will just go somewhere else,” said Clem, squaring her shoulders.

A smile flickered at the corners of the woman’s mouth. “There is no one else in the city who would offer you such a service.” She tilted her head, considering Clem for a moment. “Follow me.”

She turned and walked into a back room. A door that Clem hadn’t noticed before creaked open, beckoning Clem forward. As she stepped through the doorway she caught sight of a flash of red, the woman in front of her, leading her through dim corridors and out into a small courtyard, a small table with two chairs sat in the centre. The woman gestured for her to sit, taking the other chair as Clem gingerly sat down. Despite its rickety appearance, the chair held firm under her.

“My name is Gucci Garantine,” said the woman, “This is my tea house. And you are?”

Clem’s fingers curled in her lap. “I am called Clementine.”

“And why have you come all this way to see me, Clementine?”

“I-” Clem’s fingers flexed again, making creases in the silken fabric of her dress. “I heard- or, overheard, rather, some people talking, about you. About the kinds of things your teas could do.”

“It can do many different things,” said Gucci, “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“I want to…” Clem paused, searching for a way to describe the hollow inside her, the way it would arch up and crawl through her like a living thing, searching for sensations that her pala-din body could not provide, the ache that had settled because of it, where a heart would be. “I am curious about sensations.”

“Sensations.”

“Yes,” said Clem, “I am- curious about them. I was told there was a tea that could help me… feel them, I suppose.”

“It’s… a little more complicated than that,” said Gucci, “it- I have something that can produce an effect similar to sensations. It has been known to approximate them with relative accuracy.”

“Well, good,” said Clem, “I’d like that then, thank you.”

She reached into her pocket and withdrew her small embroidered coin purse, setting it on the table so the symbol of House Kesh was facing away from Gucci.

“How much?” said Clem.

Gucci eyed the purse curiously, naming her rather extravagant price. Being so close to her goal made Clem disinclined to argue the point. She had little need of money, after all, other than for this.

After she took the money Gucci rose from the table. Clem half rose, ready to follow, but Gucci shook her head.

“I will make it and bring it out here,” said Gucci, “I think the afternoon sunlight in the garden will be a good first sensation.”

“If you say so,” said Clem.

She looked around the garden as she waited. Flowers bloomed, unwilted despite the constant heat, perhaps helped a little by the vines growing thickly overhead. She ran her hands over the table, wondering what the flaking paint and dried wax would feel like under different skin.

Gucci returned with a tray. A cheerfully-patterned teapot and matching cup were accompanied by a plate with a small orange on it, already unpeeled.

“I thought perhaps you might enjoy trying your namesake as your first sensation,” said Gucci.

Clem couldn’t tear her eyes away from the teapot. She was so close. So close to understanding. So close to quieting the arching thing inside her. So close to  _ feeling _ .

Gucci put a hand on her wrist, making her flinch. Clem looked up.

“I asked if you would like me to pour the tea,” said Gucci.

“Oh,” said Clem, “Yes, thank you.”

She watched Gucci pour it, the liquid closer to gold than to ordinary tea.

“How much should I drink, for it to work, I mean?” said Clem.

“I would recommend starting with half a cup,” said Gucci, “And then we’ll assess how you’re feeling.”

“I should hope I feel  _ something _ ,” said Clem, ”Otherwise this is rather a wasted exercise.”

She took a delicate sip, wrinkling her nose at the odd sensation of the warm beverage inside her. After she had taken another sip she set the cup down, rubbing her palms together, more than a little disappointment that it felt as it always did.

“I will probably take a little more time to work,” said Gucci, “Just… give it a moment.”

Clem sighed, reaching for the cup again. “Fine.”

After another few sips she set the cup down again, watching the golden liquid as it stilled. She felt Gucci’s hand on her wrist again, startling at the warmth of it, and she looked down, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of herself, and then covering her mouth in surprise as she realised she had breath to catch.

The delicate skin of her fingers touched her soft lips, warm in a different way to the heat of a piece of marble in the sun. She looked up at Gucci, unable to stop the grin that crept across her face.

“How do you feel?” said Gucci.

“I- that’s a very complicated question,” said Clem.

She looked around the garden again, taking a deep breath in. The air was heavy with the scent of the flowers and the damp earth underneath them, under that the strange, spicy scent of the tea, and, in the distance, the salty air of the ocean. Clem lifted a hand to catch a sunbeam, feeling the warmth of the sun through her new skin into her bones.

“This is…” Clem swallowed. “Is this real?”

“In a sense,” said Gucci, “It’s not a permanent change. It’s not even really a change at all, it’s more that it… it gives you a sort of overlay. It amplifies the sensations you ordinarily have so that you can feel them more readily.”

Clem nodded, Gucci’s voice washing over her like the feeling of sunlight.

“Do you need to lie down?” said Gucci.

“No,” said Clem, “I need- how long does this last?”

“A few hours,” said Gucci, “Sometimes half a day, depending on the person.” She picked up the small orange holding out a slice to Clem. “Here. Try this.”

Clem’s finger brushed Gucci’s as she took the slice and she gasped, dropping it. It fell, landing on the table between them. Gucci opened her mouth to speak, her jaw snapping shut and Clem took her hand.

“I didn’t expect-” Clem broke off, pressing her lips together. “I- Can I…?”

Gucci’s expression relaxed into something Clem couldn’t place. She squeezed Clem’s hand, smiling at Clem’s sharp inhale. It was, Clem thought, the realest thing she had ever felt.

“Deep breaths Clementine,” said Gucci, “I’ve got you.”

Clem closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the warm sensation of Gucci’s hand in her’s. 

  
  


_ Rise _

Gucci studied Clem as she closed her eyes. Probably one of her stranger client requests, and definitely one of her strangest interactions with a pala-din. She rarely had any come into her shop, and even more rarely had one looking to buy, let alone ask for what Clem had asked for.

Clem took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly as she opened her eyes. They were a light blue now, the same colour as her gem eyes had been, glittering with the same light. Gucci squeezed her hand, and was rewarded as Clem smiled at her again.

“Perhaps you would like to walk with me?” said Gucci.

Clem’s eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t-”

“Just around the garden,” said Gucci.

“Oh. Well,” said Clem, “Yes, I suppose that would be alright.”

Gucci offered Clem her arm as they stood, feeling herself grin as Clem’s cheeks flushed. She walked slowly, aware of Clem’s slight unsteadiness under the force of the new sensations. With their bodies this close she could also feel the true weight of Clem underneath her temporary exterior, where her new skin gave way to the marble underneath.

Clem didn’t seem to notice, pausing every so often to bend close to a particular flower or to lift her hand into the sunlight, her fingers flexing as though she were trying to grasp it. All the while, she kept her arm around Gucci’s, keeping to a steady pace.

“How do you feel,” said Gucci softly.

She felt Clem take a breath in, her eyes fluttering closed as she thought.

“It’s…” Clem let out a breath. “It’s even…  _ more _ than I thought it would be.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

Clem huffed a breath, stepping away from Gucci. “No, that’s- it’s- I like it. It means it will be easier to remember it, after I- after it fades.”

She took a step, stumbling, her weight pulling them both down to their knees in front of the flowerbeds. Clem flushed bright pink, looking away towards the flowers beside them, her hands fluttering to her sides. Gucci followed her gaze, shifting close to her again and putting a hand on her arm. Clem swallowed, pressing her lips together.

“I know it’s not- not  _ real _ , but I-” Clem wet her lips. “Sometimes I have this dream, where- I have this feeling, where it’s not  _ sensation _ , exactly, but it’s so  _ close _ that I feel like it  _ must _ have been there, at some point, I must have been able to- but I can’t remember.” The corners of her mouth twisted. “What a strange thing to give me, when she made me.”

“I’m glad I could help you remember,” said Gucci softly.

Clem looked up. “It’s- it’s probably not even a real memory, you know.”

“Still,” said Gucci.

Gucci smiled at her, pulling herself to her feet and offering a hand to Clem. Clem blinked up at her, slowly putting her hand in Gucci’s and rising to her feet.

Clem gave her a smile back, shaky but with warmth to it. “Thank you.”


	3. Sept 8th: Sports / Storms (Bluff City Grapplers au)

_ Sports _

They’d met at tryouts and immediately been paired up, dainty Clem in her glittering white leotard and Gucci, standing out against the mat in her bright costume. Gucci was taller, too, standing out even further and knew how to use the eyes on her to her advantage from the jump. Clem had scratched her in retaliation, entirely on reflex of course. The promoters had loved the built-in rivalry of it.

Clem grit her teeth and nodded as they detailed storylines, glaring at Gucci’s back as Gucci headed back into the locker room. She had no intention of being paired with  _ Gucci _ for her entire wrestling career. Gucci seemed to be of the same opinion, always ready with a cutting remark, always sliding closer to her during practise so they would be paired with each other so that she could show off some technical move that was beyond Clem’s capabilities.

Unfortunately, the fans felt the same as the promotional team did. They were never as excited when she faced off against someone else, unless of course Gucci had been made her tag team partner for some convoluted reason.

That was the case with their match tonight as they faced off against the out-of-towner Valence and their partner for the night, Broun. Strange that Broun had agreed to it at all, given that they were usually in a manager role.

Gucci huffed a laugh. “Of  _ course  _ they agreed. It’s  _ Valence _ .”

Clem tugged her boots on a little more forcefully than necessary. “What does that even  _ mean _ ?”

Gucci shot her an amused look. “You really haven’t- no, I suppose not.”

“Either stop speaking in riddles or leave,” said Clem, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “I get enough of whatever this is from SI.”

Gucci’s expression didn’t change, but she shrugged. “Fine. You wanted to talk through our moves.”

“I wanted to make sure  _ you  _ weren’t going to get in my way out there,” said Clem.

Gucci smirked at her. “You like it when I get in your way.”

“I do  _ not _ ,” said Clem, feeling her cheeks flush, “That’s- I have  _ never _ -”

Gucci stood up with a laugh. “Come on, let’s go find Valence and Broun so we can talk through the match.”

Clem sighed, throwing on her coat over her costume. She never worried about it when she was in the ring, but out of it she always felt out of place in it. Gucci, of course, had no such concerns, her long red cape rippling behind her as she walked.

“You look ridiculous,” said Clem.

“Yeah, that’s the point,” said Gucci.

“Will you  _ please _ be serious?”

“I am,” said Gucci.

Clem made a frustrated sound, speeding up her pace. Gucci easily caught up to her. 

“What’s  _ with _ you tonight?” said Gucci. “I mean, you usually get nervous before we go on but this is like-”

“I do not get  _ nervous _ ,” said Clem.

“You do,” said Gucci, “but you’re not normally  _ this _ bad.”

“I-”

Clem caught sight of a flash of white and gold in the otherwise-empty stands, stumbling to a halt. Crysanth was there, speaking to one of the promoters, SI hovering behind them as he waited to interject. Clem felt her face flush with heat and then rapidly cool, her head spinning. Gucci put a hand on her arm and he found herself letting Gucci guide her away, back into the locker room. Gucci lifted a hand to Clem’s shoulder, pressing down lightly until Clem sat. Gucci took a seat on the bench next to her, taking a moment before she spoke.

“Did you know she was coming?”

Clem swallowed. “They told me yesterday, I…” She huffed a laugh. “I can’t believe she actually came in person. She never did that when she- before.”

Before SI was her manager. Before, when Crysanth had been. Before, when Crysanth had controlled her contracts and her gimmicks and the moves she was allowed to do in the ring. Before she’d injured herself trying to do something new and been dumped in Bluff City.

“What’s she even doing here?”

Clem wet her lips. “Scouting, I think. Or that’s what she told them anyway.”

“Poaching,” said Gucci, “Making sure we’re still good enough to be competition.”

That was one thing she  _ did _ appreciate about Gucci, that whenever the spectre of Crysanth rose in her life Gucci unreservedly took Clem’s side. She gave Gucci a shaky smile. Gucci smiled back, putting a hand on Clem’s shoulder again. Clem could feel the warmth of it sinking through her, chasing away the chill that Crysanth had brought.

“Whatever,” said Clem, “We’ve got a match to prepare for. She probably won’t even stay for our match.”

“You going to be alright if she does?”

“Of course,” said Clem, her voice sounding far steadier than she felt.

Gucci looked skeptical. It was annoying to be able to be read so easily by someone she could never figure out.

“I’ll be  _ fine _ ,” said Clem. She crossed her arms. “Worried I’ll make you look bad?”

“No, I never worry about that,” said Gucci, “Even when you botch a move no one ever notices.”

“If no one notices then why does SI always talk my ear off about it afterwards like it’s the end of the world?”

Something flickered across Gucci’s expression. “Because he’s worried that you’re going to get hurt. You can be pretty reckless.”

“That’s what the job is,” said Clem.

“No it isn’t, Clem-” Gucci broke off, letting out a breath. “Are you  _ sure _ you’re going to be okay out there tonight?”

Clem stood up sharply. “Are you sure  _ you’re _ going to be okay? Since you’re worrying so much-”

“Of course I’m worried!” said Gucci, “I don’t want you to get  _ hurt _ !”

“Why would you even care?” said Clem.

Gucci reacted as though Clem had slapped her, her expression hurt. “Why would I-” She turned away. “You’re right, I don’t know why I would.”

An icy hand gripped Clem’s chest and she fumbled for the words that would make Gucci turn back towards her. “I- that’s not what I meant, you- you’re always very… professional, in the ring, and I’m sure you- I’m sure you feel that way about everyone, I mean, I know everyone feels that way about  _ you _ -”

“Do you?”

Clem stuttered to a stop. “What?”

“Do you feel that way about me?”

Clem flexed her hands at her sides, resisting the urge to reach out and pull Gucci back towards her.

“I-” Clem swallowed, her cheeks burning. “Of course, you- you’re a decent opponent. I would hate to lose you.”

Despite everything, she would. Everyone else at Millenium Break Wrestling was either dreadfully dull or prone to give her the silent treatment over nothing. Only with Gucci did she really feel as though she could get the recognition she deserved, but beyond that, wrestling with Gucci felt like the wrestling of her youth, before it had become a career her mother was interested in for her. With Gucci she left everything behind and became solely her own body, moving with Gucci’s in the ring to create a performance that brought people to their feet.

Gucci huffed a laugh, finally turning back towards Clem. “I would hate to lose you too.” She paused. “So… be careful out there tonight, okay? Try not to be  _ so  _ reckless that I can’t have your back.”

“I suppose if it will make  _ you _ feel better,” said Clem.

She paused, reaching up slowly to put a hand on Gucci’s arm. Gucci looked down at her hand and Clem felt her cheeks flush again, taking her hand away, but Gucci caught it, their fingers tangling easily together.

Clem swallowed, blaming the slight dizzy feeling Gucci’s touch brought on for how her next words slipped out so easily. “You should be careful too.”

Gucci smiled, squeezing her hand. “Of course-”

“SI said that you always come down too hard on your right knee,” Clem continued quickly, “So you should watch that.”

“You always talk about me with your manager?”

“Yes- No, it just came up,” said Clem, “Come on, let’s go find Valence and Broun, we’re wasting time.”

“Okay,” said Gucci, an edge of laughter in her voice.

She didn’t let go of Clem’s hand, and Clem didn’t let go either. For once, being in a team didn’t feel like the most awful thing in the world.

  
  


_ Storms _

Clem sighed, looking up at the speckled ceiling of Gucci’s apartment. It wasn’t as nice as her own place, obviously, but the furnishings were acceptable, and the couch, which she was currently lying across, was perhaps even a shade more comfortable than Clem’s own. Not that she would have told Gucci that, of course, but it did help sway her when it came to deciding who’s place they should watch a movie at.

The windows rattled slightly as the rain began to hit them and Clem sighed again.

“I can’t believe they called off the match because of a little bad weather,” said Clem.

Gucci’s voice floated out from the kitchen. “It’s more than just a little bad weather. They’re worried the storm’s going to flood the whole boardwalk.”

Clem frowned up at the ceiling. “It won’t reach the arena, surely.”

“It might,” said Gucci, emerging from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. “Move over.”

Clem stretched her legs out further, taking up as much room as possible. Gucci huffed a laugh, setting the bowl down on the floor and wrapping her hands around Clem’s ankles, lifting her legs up enough for her to sit down.

“Hey!” said Clem.

“No refs here,” said Gucci, “And you don’t  _ need _ that much room.”

“I was  _ comfortable _ ,” said Clem.

“I have faith that you can find a new way to be comfortable,” said Gucci, picking up the remote.

Clem huffed, sitting up to shift around on the couch. She really had been  _ much _ more comfortable stretching out, and there was only one other way to do that. She pressed her lips together, hoping her cheeks didn’t look as flushed as they felt.

Gucci’s eyes flicked towards her. “What?”

“I-” Clem wet her lips. “Would it be okay if I-?”

“If you…?”

Clem shifted, leaning as far back towards Gucci as she could without touching her.

“I- sure, I guess,” said Gucci.

Clem swallowed, leaning back slowly, her body tense as she settled across Gucci’s lap, her head resting on the arm of the couch.

“Since you insist on sitting here,” said Clem, hoping Gucci didn’t pick up on how odd her voice sounded.

Gucci nodded, apparently absorbed in the task of picking a movie. Clem tried not to move, her hands fluttering to her stomach for a moment before she dropped them to her sides, plucking at the soft fabric of the couch.

Gucci frowned down at her. “You okay?”

“Yes,” said Clem quickly, “Of course.”

“You- we don’t have to watch anything,” said Gucci, “I just thought- we so rarely have the same night off-”

“No, that’s fine,” said Clem, “I just- are you sure this is alright?”

Her hands fluttered up and down in a gesture. The movement felt clumsy, and Clem could feel her cheeks flush. When she flicked her gaze back to Gucci’s face, she could see a faint pink flush on Gucci’s cheeks as well. The sight of it was so captivating she almost forgot to take a breath.

“Of course,” said Gucci, “I-”

Clem raised herself up slightly. “I can- I’ll move-”

“No, it’s fine, really, I-”

Gucci put a hand on her shoulder and Clem froze, her breath catching in her throat at their closeness. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t been in similar positions before, their profession almost dictated that they got as close as possible, their bodies sliding and fitting together to perform athletic feats. Without the adrenaline from the roar of the crowd, the closeness felt different. Intimate, almost shockingly so.

Clem tore her eyes away from Gucci, catching Gucci forcing herself to do the same. A jolt rushed through her, similar in nature to the adrenaline that pulsed through her during their matches together but different enough that it caused a different set of motions, pushing her up until their lips met.

She heard the remote fall to the floor.

Clem drew back almost immediately, the movement stopped by Gucci’s hand on the back of her head, pressing her forward again. Just as they did in a match, Clem followed the signal of her movement, opening under Gucci’s lips to deepen the kiss. 

She shifted slightly, wiggling until she was sitting up on Gucci’s lap instead of lying across her, her hands clutching at the fabric of Gucci’s t-shirt. Gucci broke off, mouthing a kiss on the sensitive spot under Clem’s jaw. Clem gasped, and she heard Gucci’s rich chuckle in response. Instead of her usual irritation at the sound, heat flared in her belly.

“Gucci,” said Clem, “is this a date?”

Gucci broke off from kissing up Clem’s neck, resting her forehead against Clem’s as she laughed.

“That’s not an answer,” said Clem.

“Would you like it to be a date?”

Clem’s chest felt tight. “That’s not an answer either.”

“I know,” said Gucci, “But all the same I’d like it if you answered the question.”

Clem swallowed hard. “I… wouldn’t be opposed to this being a date. If you were- if you also- I… Gucci, do you...?”

Gucci leant up, pressing a light, quick kiss to Clem’s lips and stunning her into silence. “I do and I would. I was hoping, actually.”

“Oh,” said Clem. She pressed her lips together, unable to stop the smile growing across her face. “Right. Well, that’s… So this  _ is  _ a date then?”

“Yes,” said Gucci, and kissed her again.

“Good,” said Clem. She got caught in the rhythm of the kiss for a long moment, almost losing herself to it before a thought pulled her back.

“We’ll probably have to change our current storyline you know,” said Clem. “I’d hardly like to spend my workday yelling insults at someone I- someone I’m dating.”

She felt Gucci smile against her lips. “I’m sure they can work with it.”

“They’ll have to,” said Clem, “Or I’ll- I’ll quit-”

Gucci pulled her into another kiss. “We can think about our kayfabe storyline later. Let’s focus on our real story for now.”


	4. Sept 9th: Kiss and Tell / Keep it Secret (Bluff City Concern au)

_ Kiss and Tell _

Agent Belltower was annoyed with her again. Gucci was trying her best to ignore it, as it would have been wildly unprofessional to pick a fight with another agent, not to mention how dangerous it was to sow discord between agents while they were in Blough City. 

Belltower made her  _ want _ to be unprofessional though, glaring at her from the other side of the bar as they waited for their contact. At this rate their contact could sit right next to her and she’d be too busy scowling at Gucci to notice.

Gucci sighed, ignoring Belltower’s look of surprise as she approached, sitting down next to her.

“Agent Dawn, you’re supposed to be watching the other side of the room,” whispered Belltower.

“And you’re supposed to be watching this side of the room, not staring at  _ me _ ,” said Gucci.

A flush spread over Belltower’s face. As someone who was reportedly being considered for Deep Blue status, she could be very easily flustered.

“No I wasn’t.”

“You were,” said Gucci, “You’ve been glaring at me and trying to give me an arctic-level cold shoulder since we were given this assignment.”

“So?”

“ _ So _ what is your  _ problem _ ?” said Gucci.

Belltower shushed her, perhaps not unfairly since Gucci’s voice had risen slightly in volume to match her annoyance.

“I don’t have a problem with you, Agent Dawn,” said Belltower, her voice clipped, “I just think it’s unprofessional to have relationships with other Agents.”

Gucci frowned. “What?”

“Agent Debutante?” said Belltower, “Or have you forgotten her so easily now that she’s out of sight?”

“Debutante and I don’t have a  _ relationship _ ,” said Gucci, “what are you even  _ talking _ about?”

“I saw the report,” said Belltower, “you gave her a review so glowing it was practically neon, honestly, it was obvious-”

“I gave her that review because she earned it,” said Gucci, “She’s a good agent-”

“Not in my experience-”

“Well that’s because you’re a terrible mentor,” said Gucci.

“What about- you kissed her,” said Belltower, “I  _ saw _ you.”

“That was for cover,” said Gucci.

Belltower rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“Maybe you should try it sometime,” said Gucci, “I’ve always found it to be very effective.”

“You’ve done that more than once?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” said Gucci, not breaking eye contact with Belltower as she took a sip.

Belltower’s cheeks flushed again and Gucci hid her grin behind her glass.

_ Keep It Secret _

The mission goes sideways, as these things often do in Blough City. They’ve made it to the extraction point, thank god and luck and whatever else has helped them get this far. They just have to hold out until the timing’s right enough for the warehouse back door to open into a shunt point instead of a dead end alleyway.

“Keep still,” says Belltower, her voice shaking too much to hold the authority she’s trying to project.

Still, Gucci tries her best not to flinch as Belltower peels back the shirt fabric on her side to examine her.

“It just grazed you,” says Belltower, the relief clear in her voice. “It’s- you’re going to be fine.”

“I know,” says Gucci, “It just hurts like hell.”

“It’s your own fault,” says Belltower, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and holding it against Gucci’s side. “You didn’t have to push me out of the way.”

“If I hadn’t you would have gotten more than a graze,” says Gucci.

“I would have been fine,” says Belltower.

“You would absolutely not have been fine,” says Gucci.

Belltower huffs a breath. “Agent Dawn. I know you don’t think much of me as an Agent but I  _ have _ been doing this for quite a while. I can handle myself.”

Gucci thought of Belltower’s expression after she’d gone down, turning with a cold fury on the rival Agent who’d shot at them. Practically a different person entirely to the woman she could make blush with as little as a raised eyebrow.

“I know you can,” says Gucci, “But we’re supposed to be a team out here.” She put her hand on Belltowerr’s wrist. “We’re supposed to look out for one another.”

Belltower wet her lips. “That’s not exactly Concern policy.”

“I know,” said Gucci, “But it’s mine.”

An odd expression fluttered over Belltower’s face. Gucci didn’t have time to process what it was before Belltower was leaning down to kiss her. It was a little clumsy, their noses bumping as Gucci flinched back at the unexpected contact.

Belltower broke off with a gasp. “Sorry, I don’t-”

Gucci caught her hands. “Hey, it’s okay.” She paused. “Not everything has to go into the report, you know.”

“Right,” said Belltower, her voice a little unsteady. “Right, I- I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“And the wrong idea would be?”

Belltower opened her mouth and then closed it again. Gucci huffed a laugh.

“Right well when you work out what idea I  _ should _ have about it, let me know.”

Belltower pressed her lips together. “Perhaps we could- discuss it. After we return to Bluff City.”

“Honestly Belltower, it’s not that big of a deal to leave something off a report,” said Gucci, “we don’t have to-”

“I wasn’t talking about a report,” said Belltower, “I meant as- after hours.”

“After hours,” said Gucci.

“Yes,” said Belltower, “I have a place, we could go there to talk.”

“I think it’s a little fast for me to be coming back to your place,” said Gucci, “considering we don’t even really know each other’s names.”

“Clem,” said Belltower.

“Oh my god,” said Gucci, “and you lecture  _ me _ about being unprofessional.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “Gucci.”

Belltower-  _ Clem  _ smiled, ducking her head slightly to hide the expression. Behind them, the door clicked open, the faint smell of the Bluff City boardwalk coming from it.

“Well then,” said Clem.

She stood up, helping Gucci to her feet and supporting her as they headed towards the doorway. If Gucci let her head rest a little on Clem’s shoulder well, she had a feeling that particular piece of information wasn’t going to make it into Clem’s report either.


	5. Sept 10th: Downtime / Action (Twilight Mirage au)

_ Downtime _

“Clementine Kesh? You have a visitor.”

Clem looked up at the sound of the automated voice of Contrition’s Figure, lowering the  _ Renegade Hearts _ novel she had been reading to peer at the viewscreen. It was not often that she received outside visitors - even Sovereign Immunity tended to limit his visits to once every few cycles unless certain members of the fleet were looking for information on her mother, and even then they seemed to much prefer letters to do so. She tapped a button, bringing up the visitor information. The novel slid to the floor, unnoticed by Clem in her surprise.

The visitor was Gucci Garantine.

Clem’s breath caught in her throat. The footage was a little grainy, distorting the colour of Gucci’s bright jumpsuit and making it blur a little into her surroundings, but she looked just as she did in Clem’s memory. Better, even, since she wasn’t bloody and covered in ash as Clem has last seen her.

It felt like such a long time ago but she could still bring the feeling to mind, the way their mechs had clashed, metal grinding against metal above the stadium. An explosion, throwing them both to the ground. A split-second decision, between escaping and pulling Gucci from the wreckage.

Not really a decision at all, in the end. She could no more have walked away from Gucci than she could have returned to Earth. Even the cost of losing an arm hadn’t been enough to discourage her.

“Clementine Kesh?” repeated the automated voice, “You have a visitor.”

Feeling as though she were in a dream, Clem pressed the button to allow Gucci entry. She stood, catching sight of herself in the tall mirror beside her bed. Her hands fluttered over her hair, smoothing her blonde curls into something neater, straightening out a crease in her delicate lace gown, making herself back into something more befitting the Clementine Gucci had known.

She stepped forward, stopping a few paces away from the long pane of glass that separated her from the outside world, pressing her lips together before she forced herself back into a neutral expression. Clem clasped her hands behind her back, her fingers flexing against the joints of her prosthetic hand at the faint hiss of the door opening on the other side of the glass.

Gucci met her gaze easily, smiling as she stepped gracefully into the room. She was still favouring her right side, Clem noticed. They both had their reminders, she supposed.

“Hello Clementine,” said Gucci.

Clem nodded, not quite trusting her voice. She curled her toes in her boots, resisting the urge to step closer to the glass as Gucci took another step forward.

“The silent treatment?” said Gucci, “Surely after all this time you must have forgiven me a little for what I said during the trial. It was only the truth, after all.”

“I don’t think about that,” said Clem.

“You don’t?” said Gucci, “I thought they said you were reflecting on your crimes?”

“I am,” said Clem, “but I don’t see what my trial has to do with that.”

A smile flickered at the edge of Gucci’s lips. She took a step forward, closer to the glass, and Clem copied the movement.

“It’s a long way to see me just to reminisce,” said Clem, “I assume you’re here for a specific reason on behalf of many. That was always more your style.”

“You worked on behalf of many too,” said Gucci, “Just because you thought of yourself as above them doesn’t mean that you didn’t represent them.”

Clem huffed a breath, crossing her arms. “Order off the menu Garantine.”

Gucci paused, her shoulders straightening as though she were preparing herself for a duel. “The New Earth Hegemony have made several… movements lately. We believe these movements may be part of a broader set of ideas.”

“Well why come to me with any of that?” said Clem, “You can check the records for yourself, I’ve had no contact with anyone from there-”

“I know,” said Gucci, “But this is- we think it’s a  _ very _ long term plan, in a very…  _ specific _ direction, and we suspect the people involved have been, like you, separated from receiving direct information for a very long time.”

Gucci was being cagey, choosing her words carefully, but it was more than enough for Clem to picture the basics of the plan in play. Her mission from Crysanth had been a similar one, after all, a squad sent out with nothing but a handful of information and an end goal of targeted destruction.

“Of course,” said Clem, “You think it’s  _ her  _ so you’ve come to me, just expecting me to tell you whatever you want and then just  _ leaving _ me here, never knowing what’s happened or if you- or how things turn out..”

Gucci took another step forward. This time, Clem was able to catch herself so that she only took half a step, leaving her a little further away from the glass than Gucci was.

“I don’t  _ expect  _ you to,” said Gucci, “But I think you  _ want _ to.”

“Oh, is that so?” said Clem, “And why would that be?”

“Because you pulled me out of my mech when it would have been smarter to leave,” said Gucci, “Because you had your orders and you did the right thing anyway.”

“I didn’t do it because it was  _ right _ ,” said Clem, “I did it because it was  _ you _ .”

She felt her cheeks flush, immediately turning her eyes down to study the floor. Foolish to let her thoughts slip out so easily, but Gucci always had that effect on her.

Gucci’s boots stepped into her view. Clem slowly raised her head, the heat in her cheeks flaring again as she caught sight of Gucci’s smile. If there had been no glass between them, they would be less than an arm’s width apart. Close enough to touch. Clem swallowed around her dry throat.

“I just meant- I didn’t want people to think I couldn’t beat you on a level playing field,” said Clem.

Gucci’s smile grew wider. “Of course.” She paused. “This could be a way to level the playing field too, you know. Helping us, proving you’ve changed… they might agree to let you out.”

“What if what I tell you doesn’t help?” said Clem.

“That you tried will be proof enough,” said Gucci, “I kept trying to tell you - that’s what the Fleet is about.”

Clem wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care about the Fleet.”

“But…?” prompted Gucci.

Clem sighed. “But I suppose I don’t have anything better to do.”

Gucci smiled, her face close enough to Clem’s that she could see Gucci’s eyes glitter, as captivating and as beautiful as ever.

She didn’t care about the Fleet, not really, but there was one person in it that felt worth it.

  
  


_ Action _

Gucci flew low over Quire, her instruments pinging as she got closer to Clem’s position. She’d been hoping that she’d be able to stop at clearing of some kind, but the terrain on the spaces that were less dense were so uneven she was more likely to break something on landing.

Her ship hovered over the dense trees for a moment before she leaned over the controls, attempting to put a call through. It hadn’t worked earlier, but hopefully she was close enough now to one of the new nodes.

Clem must have trekked in quite a way to get this far. Gucci smiled. She’d known Clem was the right person for the job of checking the nodes - someone stubborn enough not to give up as they moved across unfriendly terrain, someone used to being in a space utterly alien to them, and far enough away from any known sentient creature that Clem couldn’t get into an argument with anybody.

Her speakers crackled as the call finally connected. “Gucci?”

“Clem,” said Gucci, “I’m almost at your position but there’s nowhere for me to land.”

Clem huffed a breath. Gucci pressed her lips together to smother a laugh, picturing Clem’s expression of frustration as clearly as if Clem were standing in front of her.

“Well I’m not walking all the way out of here just to see you-”

“No?” said Gucci innocently.

“-Just throw down a rope or something and I’ll come up,” said Clem, “Honestly Gucci, do I have to think of  _ everything _ ?”

“It’s a long way to climb,” said Gucci.

“I’ve climbed further,” said Clem, an outrageous lie that Gucci found herself charmed by nevertheless.

Gucci flicked a few controls, holding the ship in place while she gathered the rope ladder.

“All right,” said Gucci, “Look out below.”

She heard Clem’s answering hum a moment later. “See you soon Garentine.”

Gucci held the ship steady as she waited, pulling out a cool drink from her supplies and setting them on the small table. She poured one for herself as well - it wouldn’t do for Clem to think she’d just been waiting around for her.

She spotted Clem below her long before Clem finally pulled herself on board - a small dot of white and gold becoming more visible as she reached the hatch, too out of breath to speak as Gucci offered her a hand, pulling her inside, Clem’s pack swinging in behind her. Clem rested her forehead against Gucci’s shoulder for a moment as she gathered her breath before she reached for the drink Gucci had set out for her.

“Good to see you too Clementine,” said Gucci wryly.

Clem waved a hand, swallowing. “Yes, yes, good to see you and all of that. I could have just sent the report on the nodes to you, you know. You don’t always have to come in person.”

“Maybe I do it because I like to,” said Gucci.

Clem wrinkled her nose, leaning back against the table. “I can’t imagine why. It’s a dreadfully boring flight from the Fleet.”

“It is not the trip that interests me,” said Gucci, “but the destination.”

She was rewarded by the pink flush on Clem’s cheeks.

“Oh,” said Clem, “Well. That’s- nice. Of you.”

Gucci laughed, reaching for her drink and taking a small sip, her eyes on Clem. “I suppose I should find somewhere to put the ship down so we can catch up properly.”

“It won’t take that long,” said Clem, “the last few nodes I’ve checked have all been fine.”

“Yes, I know,” said Gucci, “I’ve been following your progress, I meant…” She put her hand on Clem’s where it was resting on the table. “I want to catch up with  _ you _ .”

Clem’s blush returned in force, but she didn’t pull away. “That’s- worried I’ve turned against you already?”

“Not at all,” said Gucci, “I  _ can  _ want to speak to you for reasons utterly unrelated to the Fleet, you know.”

“And those reasons are?”

“Personal,” said Gucci. She paused, steeling herself under the guise of giving Clem a considering look. “I suspect that you might be able to relate to such a feeling.”

Clem wet her lips. “I- yes. Perhaps.”

Gucci let out a very measured breath of relief. Clem’s hand twitched under her’s, slowly twisting until Gucci caught her meaning, their fingers tangling together. Clem ducked her head, not quite hiding a smile before she looked back up at Gucci. Gucci smiled back.

“Well then,” said Gucci, “It sounds like we will have something to catch up on after all.”


	6. Sept 11th: Music / Silence (canon au, fix it)

_ Music _

Clem had never been particularly skilled at playing music. No matter what instrument her tutors had given her, she’d never managed anything beyond a clumsy version of the Kesh anthem. She could hear the song now, from the shuttle that was to secret her off Partizan. They’d been playing it almost non-stop, as though the citizens of Partizan were keen to show their favour to Kesh, lest Crysanth send them away too.

It was, thought Clem, rather a grating tune. She was almost glad not to have learnt it.

Gucci had tried to teach her once. They’d both been left at their school over the holidays, something that in retrospect probably occurred because of some political danger they were in - at the time, it had felt a little as though she was being punished for something, and also like she was getting away with something, just her and Gucci, alone amongst the huge school grounds.

They’d rambled about, keeping each other occupied until a combination of the weather and frustrated staff confined them to a single wing of the school. It had been Clem who’d led the way to the music room, sure that there would at least be something interesting in there. There was, in a way. Gucci could play the piano beautifully.

Clem had tried to copy her, quickly growing frustrated as she hit one wrong note after another. Gucci had merely smiled, rummaging around the teacher’s desk for a moment and coming back with blank music sheets.

“Those songs are all old anyway,” said Gucci, “I bet we can write better ones.”

Clem was even worse at writing music than she was at playing it, although as her penmanship was slightly better than Gucci’s, she took the job of transcribing. She couldn’t remember how the song they wrote had gone, only the way the afternoon light had caught Gucci’s eyes and the odd feeling that had spread out from her chest at the sight of Gucci’s smile.

The ship around her rattled as it got closer to the gate, jolting Clem from her thoughts. Perhaps she should try to commit the Kesh anthem to memory. She was as unlikely to hear it in her future as she was to hear the long-forgotten song she and Gucci had written in their youth. After all, she had to be sent far enough away for her death to be believed, far enough away that she could no longer affect the situation on Partizan. It was far more politically valuable for her to be dead and memorialised than alive and unmanageable.

She watched the moon disappear in the ship’s window, a dull ache in her chest. When she closed her eyes, her mind conjured not an anthem but a schoolroom, Gucci beside her and the stretch of possibilities before them as endless as space itself.

_ Silence _

“Before I say anything,” said Sovereign Immunity, “I need to know if I can trust you to keep this to yourself.”

Gucci blinked, trying to wake herself up. The numbers on the clock beside her said it was late, close to midnight and probably even closer where Sovereign was, or where he was  _ supposed _ to be at least, given the mission he’d been sent on. She scrubbed a hand over her face. She had been hoping that given the several, large victories over the Stels in the past few years of war they had at least entered into a  _ small _ period of quiet.

If Sovereign was calling her directly, that was probably a sign that things were about to get significantly  _ less _ quiet.

“That depends on what you’re about to tell me,” said Gucci.

“You’re going to think- I mean, I know how this is going to sound, because even to me it sounds- and I didn’t know who else to call- but, I mean, I’m looking right at her, and it’s definitely her, it’s gotta be-”

“Sovereign,” tried Gucci.

“It’s Clem,” said Sovereign, his voice rushed and quiet, “She’s- I’m at the port in New Cruciat and she’s- she’s sitting  _ right there _ .”

Something  _ swooped _ through her chest, making it hard to take a breath. Gucci pressed her hand down on the mattress to steady herself.

“That’s not possible,” said Gucci.

“I know,” said Sovereign, “But she’s- I heard her  _ speak _ , it’s  _ her _ -”

“Clementine Kesh is dead,” said Gucci flatly.

“And if I weren’t looking right at her I’d agree with you,” said Sovereign. “Look- I’m sending you a photo, just- look at it and tell me that’s not her.”

Gucci sighed, reaching over to turn on her datapad. The image slowly loaded on the screen - it was blurry and taken at an odd angle, only catching the woman in profile. She was wearing a red flight suit, her blonde hair tied back from her face with a strip of white cloth. Sovereign had caught her just as she was lifting her drink, an odd, neon cocktail. It had been a long time since Gucci had seen someone order something like that.

Clem used to order them all the time. Her drink of choice, when she was out of her mother’s sight. Gucci swallowed around the sharp ache in her throat.

“Well?” said Sovereign.

“I don’t know,” said Gucci, “She’s- it’s been  _ years _ , Sovereign.”

“I  _ know _ , but- we never found the body. And it was Kesh that found Gur Sevraq.”

Something twisted in Gucci’s stomach. “I- send me your coordinates and keep whoever it is there. And don’t let her see you.”

“Already sent,” said Sovereign, “It’s- I’ll see you when you get here, I guess.”

She took the Trangress Obliege, glad that Fort Icebreaker was close enough to New Cruciat that the trip was only hours instead of the days it could have been. The coordinates Sovereign had sent her were to a bar close to the docks. Gucci landed her mech behind a line of warehouses, out of sight, her heart thudding in her chest as she made her way towards the bar.

Sovereign greeted her at the door, the line of his shoulders tense. “She’s still here.”

“Where?”

He stepped back, giving Gucci a clear line of sight to the bar. She couldn’t see the woman’s face but there was something about the line of her back that was familiar to make Gucci’s breath catch.

“See?”

“I don’t see anything,” said Gucci, glad that her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “Not yet.”

She walked towards the woman, leaning on the bar next to her and gesturing to the bartender, ordering a drink and very carefully not looking at the woman. She heard a clink against the bar as the woman set her drink down, turning towards Gucci slightly. Gucci held herself still.

“I have to say, neither of you are very good at espionage.”

If Gucci hadn’t been leaning against the bar, her legs would have given out from underneath her. It was Clem’s voice, the particular tone of annoyance impossible to reproduce, even in parody. Gucci turned her head slowly, trying to keep her movements casual. Even so, it was hard to entirely suppress her reaction.

A thin scar twisted as Clem smiled. “Hello Gucci.”

“You- how?”

Clem took a sip. “Well, I spotted him as soon as he came in. He wasn’t even really attempting to be secretive until he spotted me and scurried away to the corner - to call you I assume?”

“No, I mean, how are you  _ here _ , you’re…”

“It’s… I suppose it’s rather a long story.” Clem paused. “I… I suppose the short version is that I only just heard about my mother, and she- well. She advised me that it would be unwise to come back while she was still alive. I suppose I have one of yours to thank for that.”

Another ache, dull this time, settled in Gucci’s chest. “Valence.”

Clem nodded. “Ah. I suppose they would have to have been the one. She wouldn’t have known what to make of them at all.”

“No, she didn’t,” said Gucci. She paused. “You could have sent word.”

“To who?” said Clem, “Besides, I’m sure my mother wasn’t the only one to find my death politically advantageous. It seems Millenium Break has thrived after my passing.”

_ We could have made it thrive together _ , Gucci didn’t say.

“I-” she began , cutting herself off.

Clem turned more towards her, her drink forgotten. The new angle brought a flash of red, catching Gucci’s eye. She looked down, her eyes widening slightly as she took in Clem’s prosthetic arm, shining red against the material of her flight suit. Clem followed her gaze, a bitter twist to her expression.

“One does not escape death unscathed,” said Clem.

“I suppose not,” said Gucci. She searched for something neutral to say, keeping to the dinner party tone Clem was so clearly straining for. “It’s not your usual colour.”

“No,” said Clem. She glanced down again, her metallic fingers flexing for a moment before she looked back up at Gucci. “It- I had a different one, when I left here. Some old Kesh military cast off, terribly clunky, and I- well, through a series of… favours, shall we say, I managed to acquire the funds to replace it with this one. It-” Her voice softened slightly. “The colour reminded me a little of you, actually.”

Gucci glanced down at her own mech suit, the red of it barely visible under her long coat. “Oh, that’s-”

She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Sovereign, moving very obviously from a table at the back of the room to a table closer to them. Perhaps Clem was right about his espionage abilities. Still, it was enough to shake her out of the moment.

“Why come back at all, if there was so little for you here that you’d pretend to be dead?”

“I didn’t say there was nothing for me here,” said Clem, “I- As for why I’m here, I… I suppose I was curious.”

“Curious,” said Gucci.

“Yes,” said Clem, “It’s- listen, Gucci, there is so much- the universe is such a  _ large _ place. It’s so easy to get lost, and I- I suppose I wanted… I wanted to see how things were here, now that I could come back. I wanted to see if you-” She pressed her lips together. “I suppose I wanted to see how you were.”

It’s so utterly, completely a  _ Clem _ thing to say that Gucci almost laughs, scrubbing a hand over her face.

“You could have  _ called _ .”

“I didn’t have your number,” said Clem, “I thought coming down here in person would be faster than trying to find out what it was now.” She tilted her head, smiling slightly. “I was right, too.”

There was something about the movement, an echo of rowing competitions and cocktail parties and negotiations from the inside of a jail cell, despite time and differences, making something flicker inside her that she thought had long since burnt out.

“It’s the same number,” said Gucci.

“What?”

“My number,” said Gucci, “It’s still the same.”

“Oh,” said Clem, “I’ll have to remember that.”


	7. Sept 12th: Free day!!

Clementine can be charming, when she wants to be. The problem is, of course, that she often _doesn’t_ want to be. She’s always been one to brute-force her way through conversations and delicate negotiations, as though she can strong-arm the other members of the Millenium Break council to agree with her point of view.

Gucci can understand the impulse, in part. She’s seen more of Clem’s life up close than another else on the ship, so she knows full well the impact Crysanth can have on a person, she can see the ways Clem’s been shaped and pruned like an ornamental tree on the palace grounds. She’s seen Clem away from Crysanth too. She’s seen how Clem can be lively and charming in a way that almost verges on carefree, if you could catch her in the right kind of mood. She knows, too, that Clem away from Crysanth can also be stubborn for the hell of it, and irritable, and childish well past the point of anything close to youthful charm. It depends on the day she’s having, and who she’s having it with.

Today, she’s sulking.

There was some disastrous council meeting that Gucci doesn’t know the full details and would frankly like to avoid being involved with for as long as possible. If it’s important enough she’ll find out about it eventually, and if it’s petty drama she’d rather her name be kept out of it.

Still, she and Clem are tangled up together in people’s minds, and so she is the one to go and speak to Clem. She doesn’t _have_ to, obviously, no one’s asked her too, but as soon as she heard about it, she knew that she’d have to go see Clem about it eventually, and she’s always preferred to prevent problems before they occur when she can help it.

There’s music playing in Clem’s room as she enters. She only knocks if the door’s locked - it’s been their unspoken rule ever since their college days. If it’s not locked then, secretly, Clem _wants_ her to come in, even if she won’t say it. A little childish, perhaps, but Gucci has done the same to her often enough. In that, at least, they are equals.

Clem is lying on her bed, kicking her feet a little in time to the beat of the music. She raises herself up on her elbows as Gucci shuts the door behind her.

“I heard you had an interesting morning,” says Gucci, keeping her voice neutral.

“Ugh,” says Clem, flopping dramatically back on the bed. “I do _not_ want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” says Gucci, and moves to sit down next to her.

Clem sits up, folding her arms in front of her. “I don’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” says Gucci, “I’m sure I’ll hear about it eventually anyway.”

“It’s just boring shipping routes,” says Clem, waving a hand, “I can’t believe they get so worked up about it. And, anyway, I wasn’t even the one to _propose_ the routes, it was Exeter Leap. After all, he was a pirate, surely he can be trusted to know the best path through the ocean.”

Gucci hums. There was probably more to it, but that didn’t sound too unmanageable. At least there was someone with knowledge involved.

“He _did_ get caught,” says Gucci.

Clem huffs a breath. “That’s beside the point.”

She pushes herself up, stalking to one of her cupboards and throwing it open, roughly pulling out one of her dresses and casting it aside. Gucci watches her from the bed - Clem’s never been very good at staying still, and being trapped on Fort Icebreaker has not helped matters.

“You should be more careful,” says Gucci, “You don’t have quite as many maids now as you did at the palace.”

Clem rolls her eyes, but she does pick the dress up and shove it roughly back into the wardrobe. Gucci stands, stepping to be beside Clem.

“What are you _doing_ Clementine?”

Clem shrugs. “I-” She huffs a breath. “I don’t know. I feel as though- I want to _do_ something and all I get to do now is _talk_ about things.”

The song changes to something faster, the beat pulsing under their feet. It takes Gucci a moment to place it - she hasn’t heard it for years, not since their college days.

“How about dancing?”

Clem turns towards her, surprise on her face, and Gucci takes Clem’s hands in her’s before Clem can pull away.

“Here,” says Gucci.

“Yes,” snaps Clem, “I know how to- _why_ , exactly?”

“You want to move,” says Gucci, spinning Clem away and then back towards her, pressing Clem close before she steps back to their original position. “So move.”

Clem’s scowl fades as the song goes on - she’s always much more charming in motion. Gucci’s often thought it strange that a being so built for action had been born into being a princess.

The song changes to something slower and they change pace to match it, swaying to the new beat. Clem’s body relaxes against Gucci’s for a moment, her usual chilly guard lessening as she leans her cheeks against Gucci’s shoulder. She sighs, and Gucci gives a questioning hum. Clem raises her head, a light flush on her cheeks.

“Nothing,” says Clem, “Just… I wish all things could feel as easy as dancing.”

Gucci smiles. “We’re not really dancing.”

“Oh,” says Clem, “I suppose you’re right.”

She looks up at Gucci, her face open and a smile hovering at the corners of her lips. When she leans up to kiss Gucci, Gucci meets her half way as though it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Clem can be charming when she wants to be, after all, and when Gucci feels in the mood to be charmed.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


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